The Importance of Being Aragorn
by Lombadia Greenleaf
Summary: Arwen had always had a strange desire to date someone named Aragorn, so she decides to put an ad in the paper...BONUS: How Estel became Aragorn.


The Importance of Being Aragorn:

_Being 1,788 words depicting the meeting of two persons whom we may have met before in various other fanfictions._

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR, blah….blah….is anyone even reading this?

Arwen anxiously chewed her pen. The pen itself was purple and shiny. It wrote underwater, upside-down, and in outer space. It glowed in the dark, and had a small flashlight and penknife in the end in case you happened to get lost in your own home (this particular pen's manufacturer had assumed that you would always have it on hand, which was rather silly. What would you do with a pen in the bath?). It came with a replaceable ink cartridge and a battery for the light. All of this was printed on the side of the pen, and obviously the letters were quite small. How she came to acquire such a magnificent writing utensil is quite another story, and if you would like to hear it, please scroll down towards the end.

Where were we? Oh yes, Arwen chewing her pen. Arwen anxiously chewed her pen. She wrote something, then scribbled it out and wrote over it. She did it again. And once more. Since there wasn't any room left on the parchment, she crumpled it and tossed it out the window, where it struck down an unfortunate squirrel. Now, Elrond happened to have a soft spot for squirrels, and as he was watching from his window as the poor creature collapsed, he immediately rushed up to Arwen's room to harangue her on the importance of squirrels in our economy today. He burst in through Arwen's door.

"Arwen! Why are you harassing the wildlife again?" Elrond bent closer and examined the paper. "What are you writing?"

"Father, I am putting an ad in the paper."

"I hope that means you're selling something."

"Yes, Ada. I'm selling my heart." Said Arwen mushily.

"Arwen, there are so many men—well, male elves—in this city! They would all kill to even meet you. Why do you need an ad?"

"Well…here, read this, it'll explain." Arwen handed him her piece of parchment:

**Wanted:**

**One Male Person (elves preferred)**

**Handsome, intelligent**

**Name must be 'Aragorn'**

"Aragorn? What a ridiculous name. Why must he be named Aragorn?"

"Because I like that name. I've always wanted to date a male being by the name of Aragorn."

"I once had a pet warg named Aragorn."

"Oh. Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll be down at the newspaper's office. I need to give this to them before they begin printing tomorrow's edition."

Elrond sighed. "If you must." Arwen smiled and went off on her way.

The next day, a man named Estel opened his paper and sipped his morning coffee with a shot of miruvor. He read all of his usual articles (sports, the funnies, and fillers) when a personal ad caught his eye.

"Legolas!" He called. His friend, who happened to be visiting, emerged from the bathroom looking distraught and rather flummoxed (I love that word).

"Oh, where is my hairbrush?" he sang pitifully.

"I think I saw a hairbrush back there. Now shut up and have a look at this." He shoved the paper at Legolas.

"Estel, I didn't think you were so desperate you needed to take out a personal ad." Legolas commented.

"Not there!" said Estel hastily. "There!" he pointed. Legolas read:

**Wanted:**

**One Male Person (elves preferred) **

**Handsome, intelligent**

**Name must be 'Aragorn'**

"Too bad for you, Estel."

"What's too bad?"

"Well, you aren't handsome _or_ intelligent, and your name isn't Aragorn. You aren't 'preferred', either, I see."

"I have been thinking of changing my name to something a little more manly."

"Not a bad idea, but _Aragorn_? People might think you are the heir of Isildur or something equally ridiculous and false."

"Well, I wouldn't _mind_ being the heir of Isildur. I'll be famous! Besides, if I get to meet Arwen, it's rather worth the publicity, wouldn't you say?"

"You and I both know that Arathorn's son died in a tragic warg attack!"

"We could tell people he—I mean, I—survived."

"Oh, Estel. Fine. Go change your name and talk to Arwen. Valar pity your poor deranged soul."

"Bye, Legolas!" Estel slammed the door. He proceeded to go to his local library, get a form, and legally changed his name to Aragorn.

And that is how lowly Estel became Aragorn, the heir of Isildur. Nobody knew that he wasn't really the heir except Legolas, and it seems that it was for the better.

Arwen had many replies to her personal ad. Some weren't named Aragorn, but believed themselves worthy of Arwen's affection anyway. These were immediately dismissed. Some had taken Estel/Aragorn's path and changed their names to Aragorn. Unfortunately, Arwen had known most of these people beforehand, and knew that their names were certainly not Aragorn. There were exactly four genuine Aragorns in Rivendell and the surrounding area, Arwen knew from looking in the Imladris Directory Online (which was updated every two minutes…if you get my insinuation, please clap your hands), but one lived with his wife of two-thousand years, and another was ten and played with action figures. Two were in her dating range, and so she saw these two men first.

She climbed up onto her pedestal and shouted into her megaphone to the hundreds of males yelling below.

"_Be quiet, please!_"

The men complied. The ones in front collapsed, their eardrums blown out.

"Oops," said Arwen. Then, into the megaphone, she commanded, "Will the two real Aragorns please come to the front door?" There was a large clambering and scrambling among them.

"I'm sorry; I forgot to mention that those who are Aragorn impersonators will be hung by their toenails and battered with a large stick." Suddenly there were but two men standing in front of her. Well, one man and one elf, who looked suspiciously like an orc. Arwen smiled and said, "Please come in, gentlemen." They did so.

"Now," Arwen said, "I have chosen you two as my date-worthy candidates. So will Aragorn number one please step forward?" Our beloved Estel/Aragorn stepped forward as requested. The other Aragorn pocketed a vase sitting on a nearby table. Arwen pretended not to notice. She and Estel entered a room off to the side. Arwen pulled out a clipboard.

"So, Aragorn, why should I choose you as my Aragorn?" she asked. She really was quite taken with his grungy, laid-back appearance.

"Well, I think that you should choose me because I love you." He said intelligently. Arwen gave him a look that told him to continue.

"I _really_ love you…(he paused a moment)…Oh, and I am the heir of Isildur. Hmmm. I also think you have a beautiful smile and I like your dress." Arwen wrote something down.

"Tell me, Aragorn, what is your favorite color?" Estel thought hard. What color did girls especially like? Wheels and cogs turned in his brain...click.

"Pink," he said. Arwen smiled. "Me too!" Phew, thought Estel.

"If you saw a kitten up a tree, what would you do?"

"I would rescue it, then check to see if it had a collar. If it didn't, I would give it to you," said Estel, desperately hoping Arwen didn't have cat allergies.

"That would be nice."

"Have you seen any good films recently?" asked Estel, his short attention span and friendly nature getting the better of him.

"Yes, actually, I saw this one about these zombies who killed everyone. The dialogue was second-rate, but the special effects were nice."

"I think Legolas might have told me about that one. It looked quite interesting. Perhaps we should go see it sometime?"

"That would be lovely," said Arwen, fluttering her eyelashes ridiculously.

"Is something in your eye?" asked Estel, worried.

"No. Let's go."

"What about Aragorn number two?"

"Oh, I think I like you better." The pair walked out of the room together.

"I'm sorry, other Aragorn, but I have chosen this one." Arwen said gently to the elf-who-rather-resembled-an-orc. He burst into tears and walked away. He didn't seem too put out, though, as he took a sword from its' display as he exited.

Well, it seems we've come to the end of the story. I hope it didn't destroy any of your personal images of Aragorn and Arwen's romance. I do apologize if it did.

Now you know.

The End

_**STOP SCROLLING!**_

How Arwen Got Such a Nifty Pen:

It all began one day way back when Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen were couch-diving. Many people often came and went from Rivendell, and just as often left valuable treasures in the sitting-room sofa. Some of the children's finds included a locket, a stuffed animal, a dried flower, Glorfindel, and a silver coin, which they used to purchase a book called _Smack the Little Red Sphere_. It was about polo. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Anyway, on one such occasion, Arwen found a ticket to Far Harad. She had always wanted to go to Far Harad, to see if there was anything there besides sand and oliphants. She packed her trunk right then and there, and set off. She neglected to tell anyone where she was going, besides her pet weasel, and as she was at the young age of nine-and-a-half (In human terms, of course. She was probably about fifty for all I know), people began to worry about her. They didn't need to, however. She was fine by herself.

She visited Far Harad, and had a jolly good time. While she was there, there was a sort of uprising against the Far Haradrianite government. During that time, the queen's favorite pen was stolen by palace-looters (see below). As the lead palace-looter rode his horse (assuming they have horses in Far Harad) down an alley in the marketplace (assuming they have marketplaces in Far Harad, or that there is anyone living there to run them), his horse tripped over a well-placed oliphant in the sand. The jolt sent the lead palace-looter head over heels through the air, eventually to land in a bushel of carrots, for which the old woman nearby berated him severely. Somewhere in his journey through the air, however, the queen's treasured pen fell out of his cloak and onto the head of a dark-haired young elf nearby. She massaged her scalp and picked up the pen off of the ground. After a few minutes, she had deciphered the very, very small print on the side and decided that it would be her new best friend. She returned home with the pen, unaware that it was stolen from the queen of Far Harad. Oh well. Let's hope that the Queen doesn't find out.

Palace-looter: A looter of palaces. What did you think?


End file.
